Come Hell or High Water
by LaughsLikeGirl
Summary: Frozen in the hopes of awaking to a future where her cancer can be cured, Amber Young finds herself on the Enterprise two hundred years in the future.
1. Prologue: If I Die Young

**Come Hell or High Water**

_Prologue: If I Die Young_

The wind blew through the graveyard sweetly, softly as it rustled the long hair of the women, blew through their black skirts with sympathetic caresses. The birds were chirping in their nests in the springtime air, curiously glancing at the gathering below their tree. It's branches hung low, sweeping along the ground in long tendrils as willow trees are wont to do. The sun was setting in the sky, as the day was late, and heralded the exit of many of the guests standing in the grass.

Most left a white rose on the ground, letting it rest at the base of the tombstone wedged into the soft dirt at the roots of the towering bark and leaves. A rather large pile had gathered by the time the guests had left, leaving a mother standing with her small son as they gazed at the writing engraved on the stone:

_AMBER SINEAD YOUNG_

_November 10, 1993 - March 23, 2011_

_Aged 18 years_

_"What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly." _

The woman sobbed and her throat constricted as she raised a frail and aging hand to cover her face. The young boy tugged at her shirt, looking curiously up at her. His face was young and innocent; he could not be more than four or five years of age.

"When is Amber going to wake up?" he asked.

The woman choked on her tears as she fell to her knees. Sorrow seized her heart and she felt it stutter against her chest painfully. It seemed so unfair - her heart beat, thumped rhythmically each minute. Where was the steadiness of her daughter's?

"Momma, when is Amber going to wake up? She was going to take me to Disneyland tomorrow," he repeated.

The woman sighed and raised her hands to rest on her son's shoulders. She fixed him with a teary gaze that did not waver as she drank in the sight of her last living child. For the moment, she steeled herself to cover herself in a brave facade for her son, to not break down when he needed her the most. She stroked his face, pushed his hair back from his forehead and laid a kiss to his forehead. "Amber is going to sleep for a long time. When she wakes up, she'll be better."

He smiled. "Really?"

She nodded. "Really. When Amber wakes up," she glanced longingly at the grave. It was cruel to outlive her daughter, but she held onto a thread of hope that she had placed on the future, the bet she had made for daughter's life. "the doctors will be able to fix her. She'll be all better again."

"The cancer will be all gone?"

"The cancer will be all gone."

He smiled gloriously and laughed with the innocence and naivety that only he still knew of. "When? When, Momma?"

"I don't know. Many, many years, sweetie."

* * *

><p>The bridge of the <em>USS Enterprise <em>was nearly silent but for the soft humming of the engine that was only audible to the Vulcan crewman sitting at his post. He surveyed the surrounding space through the open window of the bridge, free from engineering and navigational projections that often cluttered it through the day. The stars twinkled around them as they drifted through open space at normal speed, in no rush to reach their destination. Captain James T. Kirk had ruled that a nice cruise through the frontier was in order, since their well-deserved shore leave had been delayed by many weeks.

The helm was monitored by Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu who leisurely reclined with his PADD in his hands as he scrolled through the latest chapter of his book. The seat at his side, usually occupied by Ensign Chekov, was bare, the Ensign sleeping for the first time in forty-eight hours. His absence brought about a great silence over the bridge, as the constant adjustment of course he was in charge of caused a great deal of noise that went unnoticed until it was gone. It was far from missed.

The lights were dim and the dashboard clock read 0300 hours. Spock inhaled deeply, somewhat pleased to have a moment of quiet to break the ongoing activity he had grown accustomed to.

The turbolift doors opened with a sudden sound as Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy stepped onto the deck. He sighed and locked his sights on the helmsman.

"Sulu, how many times do I need to tell you to get some rest? I'm not your mother."

Sulu laughed and waved him off. "Shifts almost over."

McCony shook his head and turned to Spock. "You too, Spock. A few hours will do you some good. Riley can take over for that long."

"I am quite all right, Doctor. I received any necessary sleep earlier this evening," he replied, not taking his eyes from the window.

McCoy sighed in defeat. "You two are almost as bad as Chekov. Kid fell asleep at his post. Thank God we weren't next to anything - would've crashed us."

Sulu shut his PADD off and yawned as he stood. "How are things in the Medical Bay, Doctor?" he asked.

"Just peachy," he snapped. "Twelve Vulcans with severe lacerations in critical condition and nine more confined to their beds. Not to mention the orphans running around looking for family." He turned to Spock and said, "We need to get a list of all the survivors we managed to beam up. I'll be damned if I have to do it by myself."

Spock nodded. "Not to worry. Lieutenant Uhura has already collected the names of the children. She has reported that she will have a completed log within thirty-six hours."

McCoy nodded. "I'll need it when she's done. We need to get updated medical reports on all of them. If I have to deal with any more allergies," he muttered to last to himself, reminiscing about his captain's intolerance for many of the necessary vaccinations required aboard the Starship.

Sulu chuckled and moved to head to the lift before a silent red light caught his attention. He sat down in his chair again, reading the co-ordinates on the helm and transferring them to the screen.

"There's something up ahead," he said.

Spock stood and walked to stand behind him. "What is it, Mr. Sulu?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, zooming in on a small spot of space. "Whatever it is, it's small and moving slowly. Magnifying to fifteen."

Against the background of a distant nebula, a small pod was floating in the void of empty space, catching only small reflections of light from distant stars.

"It almost looks like," Sulu trailed off. "but it can't be."

"Looks like what, Lieutenant?" Spock questioned.

"Well, it reminds me of an old cryonics chamber."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Explain, please," Spock said.

"A few hundred years ago, people on the verge of death were given the option of freezing their bodies in liquid nitrogen for indefinite periods of time in the hope that when the technology was available to unfreeze them, medicine would be able to cure them of whatever they were sick with," Sulu replied.

"Such crude technology has long been abandoned," Spock said.

"Exactly. That's why it's strange. Should we beam it aboard, sir?" Sulu asked.

McCoy took a moment to think to himself before he said, "I think we should, Mr. Spock." The Vulcan turned to him. "If there's someone in there, we can't just abandon them."

Spock considered a moment before nodding. "Tell engineering that we're beaming aboard a piece of cargo. Wake the Captain."

* * *

><p>Title Reference: "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry<p> 


	2. Chapter 1: Tides of Time

**Come Hell or High Water**

_Chapter 1: Tides of Time_

She was freezing.

The cold penetrated right through her skin to her bones where she felt her muscles tense and her heart race and her fingers grow numb as all blood rushed to keep her heart beating at a steady pace. She felt something warm brush at her skin that felt so achingly familiar to her that she reached for it, holding it tightly. Her face began to tingle as the numbness receded.

"Well, it looks like she's regained consciousness," she heard someone grumble, a man, by the deep rumble of his voice that echoed through her flesh. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around herself as he freed his arm.

"Miss, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"

She could only shiver as she nodded the best as she could, blinking her eyes open only to wince at the bright lights.

Someone laughed. "That's better."

A dark figure knelt down in front of her, stroking her hair softly. "Are you all right?"

"C-c-c-c-cold-d," she croaked. Her voice was sore, and each breath left a hot scar down her throat.

His hands moved to rub up and down her arms, trying to warm her with the friction. "Bones, we need some thick blankets over here."

"Do I need to remind you that you can't give orders in my Sickbay, Jim?"

The man in front of her laughed. "Don't want our lady-friend to freeze."

Someone pulled a thick comforter over her and she sighed, pulling it up to her chin. There was a whirring sound about her ear and she moved to find the source. She found herself staring into the eyes of a tall man in a blue shirt, running a small object up and down her body, taking his time.

The other man moved her head to divert her attention. "Can you tell us your name?"

There was a pause as she ran through her memory, tried to remember anything she could. Brief flashes of her life came to her before she replied. "A-a-a-mb-b-er," she stuttered.

He smiled. "It's nice to meet you Amber. I'm Captain James T. Kirk," he said. "and you're currently on my ship."

She nodded.

"She seems to be okay. She'll need to stay warm to keep off hypothermia while her body adjusts," the blue-shirted man said. Amber assumed he was a doctor. He pulled out a small instrument no longer than a pen and pressed it against the skin of her leg. She felt a small pinch before he tossed it into the trash.

"So you cured her?"

"Yeah. Wasn't too hard - it was a good thing that the cancer hadn't spread too far - missed most of her vitals."

She had a million questions rushing through her head that she was dying to ask the captain or the doctor, but the swish of the door opening prevented her from chattering out her queries.

"Keptin, Mr. Spock says he needs you the bridge," a man said, adorned in a similar golden shirt. He didn't seem to notice Amber laying there.

"I'll be right there, Mr. Chekov," Kirk said. The other nodded and exited the room. He turned to Amber and said, " here is going to take care of you. I promise we'll answer all of your questions, okay?"

She nodded and watched him disappear through the doors.

McCoy cleared his throat to attract her attention as he sat down next to her bed. She tracked him with her eyes, feeling the heat build up again within her, thawing out her organs before welling up to seep through her pores. She sighed, feeling far more comfortable than before as McCoy studied her.

He leaned back and began, "So Amber, we were able to kill the cancerous cells in your body and take out the tumors without too much trouble." He paused to examine her reaction, but continued when she didn't respond. "You're clean now."

She nodded. Her eyes glazed over as her thoughts drifted off and McCoy sighed, trying to fish for a conversation starter, a way to pull more words from her blue lips. He tapped his fingers against his thigh as he watched her.

"Feeling any warmer?" he asked hesitantly. She didn't look any better in the few moments that she had been swathed in blankets. Her skin was still pale and made her look ghostly and ill. Her eyes were glazed over and blank, dull and without life. Unfamiliar with any previous dealings with survivors from old cryonics experiments, McCoy didn't know if her state was normal or if he should be concerned. He resigned to leave it to time and fate. He and his medical staff would be there to help her as much as possible, but with uncertainty. She was far from being in a stable condition.

She nodded slowly, her head moving in more of a jerk than a smooth affirmation.

McCoy groaned to himself. "I can't do this nurse crap," he muttered, standing and walking over to the wall, pressing the button of an intercom. "Nurse Chapel, report to Sick Bay."

_"On my way, doctor," _came the filtered voice.

In a matter of moments another woman stepped through the doors and smiled down at Amber. She had soft blonde hair and smooth skin accompanied by a pair of thin lips and blue eyes. "You called for me?" she called out.

McCoy nodded. "Yeah." He leaned over to whisper into her ear, gesturing at Amber as inconspicuously as possible. She nodded and moved to allow him to leave.

The woman took his place in the chair at her bed, still smiling maternally. "Hi Amber, I'm Christine," she said.

Amber nodded. "H-hi."

"Dr. McCoy told me about your situation. I know you must have a lot of questions," she said.

Amber nodded. "I'm confused. Where am I?"

"You're onboard the Starship _Enterprise_," she said.

Amber furrowed her brows. "Starship?"

Christine sighed and hesitated. "I guess we should start from the beginning," she said to herself, clearing her throat as if she had a lengthy tale to tell. "We found you floating in space, frozen in time."

"Frozen?" Amber muttered. Flashes of memories came back to her of her mother crying over her bedside, her younger brother chatting happily about his day at school, her friends leaving her notes and homework and showing her pictures of senior prom, an argument with her mother over her burial - she wanted to be buried without a coffin beneath a willow tree to let her body return to the soil, while her mom wasn't willing to let go. She had thrown her rosary away -, the doctors frantically working over her body before she fell out of touch with reality.

She gasped. "She did it," she whispered.

Christine was confused. "Who did what, sweetie?"

"My mother," Amber continued. "She didn't bury me like I told her to." She felt tears well up behind her eyes but chocked them back. She could cry when all others had left her, when she was left to be watched by the silence and the whiteness of the four walls surrounding her.

Christine patted her hand and said, "I'm sorry."

"So that means," Amber trailed off, trying to think through the headache that the pain of being forgotten by all that she had known had brought. "That means that I'm in the future."

Christine nodded slowly.

"What year is it?"

"2259."

A chill ran through Amber and she froze, the cold slowly leaving her having nothing to do with it.

She was nearly two hundred fifty years in the future...

* * *

><p>The bridge was buzzing with activity as the <em>Enterprise <em>sped forward at Warp 1, hurdling past stars. Sulu and Chekov were busy at their stations while Lieutenant Uhura handed her report on the condition of the rescued Vulcans to McCoy.

"Thanks," he said, scrolling through the dossier. He groaned at the number of names present before running a hand through his hair.

"Having trouble, Bones?" Kirk said, swirling around in his captain's chair.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "It's all these damn Vulcans."

"Statistically, the damage to the survivors could have been dramatically worse," Spock said, not taking his eyes from the screen in front of him. "We are incredibly fortunate to have a limited number of casualties."

"Speaking of survivors, how is our little ice princess?" Kirk said, smirking. "She talking yet?"

"Nurse Chapel is talking to her now. There's no way in hell I'm going to be able to coddle information out of her," McCoy replied.

"So she's alive?" Sulu asked from the helm.

"That's correct. Her name's Amber and she's now cancer free," Kirk said.

"Fascinating," Spock said. "I was not aware that the subjects of cryonic experiments still existed in revivable conditions."

Chekov turned around confused. "Cryonics? Has something happened?" he asked.

Kirk chuckled to himself. "You didn't notice her?" he began. "We picked up a young girl in a Cryonics chamber who had died of cancer. Bones was able to reboot her again and she's resting in Sickbay right now."

"Quite calmly, too, might I add, so I don't want anyone disturbing her for awhile. She's going to need to come to terms mentally with where and when she is," McCoy warned.

The bridge, excluding Kirk who smiled, nodded in understanding, though curiosity was present on nearly every face, professionally or otherwise. Kirk, blatantly obvious about the fact that he would be in there with her in a matter of hours, was the furthest from professional of the bunch. There was no denying that she was far from unattractive, though he knew that she could never match the beauty of some of the women he had known, but there was something different about her, something delicate and fragile, old-fashioned and docile, a trait he had never seen before.

Spock held nothing but Vulcan fascination. To converse with such a person, stuck in time for centuries, would be a great intrigue. Her own first-hand account of how history had played out, how science had grown and expanded, how technology had become more and more advanced would be invaluable. No one else would ever have the same opportunity.

There was no denying that Uhura was hoping Amber would be able to provide some girl talk, the one thing that the _Enterprise_ severely lacked, though Nyota loved her work. She wondered how the social life of a teenager had changed over the years. Textbooks could only provide so much information, but to hear from someone who had grown up in it and lived it would be so much better. Had she graduated from her high school? Was she going to college? What was her favorite music? Did she have a boyfriend?

She turned to the young navigator at the helm and caught Sulu's eye, who smirked and jerked his head towards his friend with a knowing look. She nodded.

If Amber and Chekov were about the same age...

She had a strong feeling that there would be many playing for the title of matchmaker in the coming weeks.

* * *

><p>The Sickbay was dark and quiet as Amber sat up in her bed, rubbing her hands over her arms. It was a habit she had developed to combat her panic disorder that she had gratefully grown out of, but the motion still calmed her when she was stressed or scared, though these feelings had escaped her as well in the past years of her life. Even if her last years were still hazy, there was a spark of confidence coming back to her as memory after memory returned to her, as if she was relearning who she was.<p>

She sighed and rested her head in her knees, looking out the window into deep space. It was a calming sight that she would never have seen in her own time, especially with talks about shutting the space program down. She thought it was real loss when there was so much to know about their planet, their galaxy, their universe. She didn't have the mind for it and would never dream of studying space and physics professionally, but just knowing that it wasn't so foreign anymore would have been wonderful.

The others in the beds around her were fast asleep and covered in gauze and bandages. She hadn't caught a glimpse of anything more than their backs. They hadn't moved once from their injuries. Amber wondered what had injured so many people to this extent, hoping that it was simply an abnormality.

She sighed, her throat sore and hoarse. Reaching over to her bedside she tapped the intercom twice, signalling for the doctor as he had told her to do. Within minutes he walked into the room wide awake with his PADD at his side. She was fascinated by the PADDs that she had seen everyone carrying around. It was comforting to know that technology hadn't knocked her too far back - if they were anything like an iPad, she could manage. He finished typing something before meeting her eyes.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"May I have a glass of water please?"

He nodded and smiled to himself, walking around the bay to his office. "You're gonna creep me out if you stay this polite," he said, returning with an ice cold glass of clear water.

She took it from him gratefully, sipping it slowly. "Habit," she said. She grew silent, returning to the window. McCoy noticed her gaze and sat down next to her.

"It must be strange," he began. "The world's changed."

She shrugged. "I guess. I just wonder if the people have changed as well," she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her statement but didn't question her further. She took another sip from her cup and turned to McCoy, opening and closing her mouth as if she wanted to say something. She stopped after a few tries, laughing weakly to herself. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name."

He smirked. "McCoy, Leonard McCoy. But you don't need to worry about my name. Jim is the one that's gonna go ballistic if you don't remember him," he said.

She nodded and a glazed look came over her face as she tried to match the name with a face. So many people had spoken to her that she couldn't remember them.

"I'll point him out next time he comes by," he assured her, patting her on the shoulder.

She nodded. "Thank you."

A glance at the clock on the wall had McCoy standing and turning to the door. "It's late. You need your sleep," he said.

"I've been sleeping for over two hundred years. I think I'm okay for a night," she said with a small smile.

He chuckled but nodded nevertheless. "I suppose. But I better see you in bed by morning," he ordered.

She nodded. "I promise." She watched McCoy open the door to leave and disappear down the hall and deeper into the darkness of the ship.

* * *

><p>Amber couldn't tell when morning came and felt slightly stupid as she waited for the sun to rise outside the window. It took her nearly an hour to realize that there would be no sun, then another ten minutes beating herself up for her stupidity. She didn't even notice the lights as they grew brighter. The process was slow and at a steady pace. She didn't recognize the change until she noticed she could read sign above the door clearly.<p>

She reclined to her back, rolling over to her side to try and fall asleep, but her mind wouldn't settle, wouldn't rest. She didn't hear the door open or the man sit in the chair beside her bed until he was smiling at her and patting her cheek happily.

"How are you doing today? Bones ready to let you go yet?" he asked.

She blinked, at a loss for words. Who was he? His face was familiar. However, she liked the think that she would remember someone named Bones. She raised an eyebrow.

"What did I tell you about harassing my patients, Jim?" Amber sighed in relief when McCoy stepped in followed by a much younger man with flawless pale skin, his hands clasped behind his back at attention.

She looked to Jim, recalling him introducing himself to her earlier the previous day. He was smirking rebelliously. "I was only trying to start a conversation," he defended.

"Yeah, right," McCoy took his place with his guest on the opposite side of the bed as Amber moved to sit up again. "Amber, this is our Science Officer, Mr. Spock," he introduced.

Spock bowed his head in greeting. "I hope you are feeling well," he greeted.

Amber nodded and replied, "A lot better now that I don't have tumors growing inside my organs." She didn't hear what he said next as she examined his eyebrows, curiously slanted upwards on his face, and his ears, pointed at the tips much like an elf's. She briefly entertained the thought that he might not be human. It was plausible. If mankind had gained the knowledge to travel in space, there was a high chance that intelligent life had made contact. She wondered where the days had gone when meeting an alien would have shocked her or caused her to doubt her sanity.

"...and the Captain has requested that you join the crew for lunch," Spock concluded.

Amber shook her head and regained her focus. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" she asked.

Jim laughed and stood, stretching out his back. "Let's just get it out of the way," he told Spock, who raised an eyebrow before nodding. Jim sat down on the bed next to her feet and said, "Spock isn't exactly human, as I'm sure you noticed," gesturing to his officer.

Amber nodded. "I did. I was merely curious," she said, looking away embarrassed.

"Quite understandable," Spock said. She could have sworn she heard McCoy mutter, "First she's over polite, now she sounds like a Vulcan."

"As I was saying," Spock repeated. "As long as permits it, Starfleet regulation states that we must investigate and record your circumstance for arriving on the _Enterprise_. A large number of refugees have taken quarters here, so you will not be returned to Earth for some time until they are relocated. A room has been prepared for you in the meantime and our libraries are at your disposal should you wish to learn about all that you have missed. The crew has also expressed a...tremendous interest in meeting you, and I expect they are preparing a welcome for you in the Mess Hall for today. Attendance is voluntary," he concluded.

Jim laughed. "No it's not. I'm ordering you to get down there for a decent meal."

McCoy shook his head in defeat when Amber looked over to him. "Well, I don't see a pressing reason for you _not _to go," he began.

"But," Jim said for him.

"But the minute something isn't right I better see you back here."

Amber smiled and nodded. "Yes, sir," she said.

Kirk got to his feet and quickly said, "Well, I guess I should talk to a certain seamstress to get you something to wear," before walking out of Sickbay.

Spock sighed. "I assume that means you will taking leave of the Medical Ward?"

Amber looked up at McCoy with large, glistening eyes. He sighed and nodded. "Get out of my sight, you rascal," he said, ruffling her hair as she sat on the edge of her bed, testing her feet for the first time. She let go of the mattress and would have fallen straight to the floor if McCoy hadn't caught her by the elbows.

"I take that back - you can leave _after_ you can walk."

* * *

><p>After minimal physical therapy to get her muscles working normally and offers from Kirk to assist her as she washed up and changed, Amber managed to get her legs to move her around at a decent proficiency. Unexpected steps tripped her and running was obviously out of the question, but McCoy had released her for lunch, so she soon found herself wearing a blue dress with the Starfleet Insignia on the breast as she towel-dried her long hair. She met Kirk at the door as she quickly pulled her hair into a wet bun at the base of her neck. She tried to keep a few stray pieces from falling into her face, but gave up when there was no sign of her hair behaving.<p>

"Why don't you take a break, Bones? You've been working non-stop since Nero died," Kirk said.

McCoy scoffed. "Without me this entire ship would be dead within a week."

Kirk opened his mouth to retort but paused and thought better of it. "Fair enough," he agreed, letting the door slid shut behind him as he ushered Amber down the hallway, happy to have her all to himself.

"So, Amber," he began. "Tell me about yourself."

She hesitated before answering, watching crewmen hustled about. "What would you like to know, Captain?"

He laughed. "No need to be so formal. Call me Jim," he said, letting his arm wrap around her shoulders. "And I would like to know everything there is to know about you."

She smirked and shook her head at his flirtatious antics. "I have a feeling I'm going to be repeating this a lot, so why don't we wait until that investigation was talking about before I give my life story?"

Kirk smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

He stepped aside and let her enter the Mess Hall first. Amber looked around at everyone with curiosity and a growing smile. Hundreds of crew were sitting and eating their meals, wearing shirts of red, blue, and gold as they conversed happily to each other. It seemed that all boundaries and formalities fell while they ate, for she couldn't differentiate between commanders and their subordinates. It felt comfortable and cheerful in the large room and Amber was almost distracted from the change in years.

She let Kirk take her by the hand and drag her to a table at the edge of the hall where a group of Starfleet personnel was seated. They turned and watched Kirk pull a chair out for her in-between a dark-skinned woman in red and an Asian man with dark hair in yellow.

"Everyone, may I introduce Miss Amber Young," Kirk said, standing behind her. Amber watched many of their faces light up with a smile and she had the utmost certainty that Jim had been talking about her to his crew.

He leaned down and asked her what she'd like to eat.

"Really, I can get my own food," she said.

He held up a hand to her protests. "I insist. You are my guest. What can I get for you?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes with the woman sitting on her right. "I don't know, a turkey sandwich?" she suggested. He was gone instantaneously with her order before she could change her mind.

Amber turned to the woman and asked, "Is he always so...enthusiastic?"

She laughed. "All the time," she replied.

"Having a pretty young lass like yourself aboard doesn't help, either," a man said across from her. She smiled at his Scottish accent. He reached across the table to shake her hand. "Name's Montgomery Scott. It's a pleasure."

She nodded. "Likewise," she said, taking his hand.

Scott's introduction opened a floodgate of hands in her face as they all followed suite, introducing themselves one after the other. Amber knew that she wouldn't remember all the names being thrown at her, much less match them to the correct face.

"Nyota Uhura," the woman greeted, pushing the people off of her that had leaned over from the opposite edge of the table to try and join in on the conversation.

"Hikaru Sulu, pilot," the Asian man said.

She nodded to Spock as he approached the table and sat down on the other side of Uhura and he returned her greeting.

"And this is our First Officer -" Uhura began.

"We've met," Amber said. " is the one that invited me to lunch."

They turned to him in surprise. "Spock invited you?" Scott asked in disbelief.

"I was simply passing along the message," he assured.

Amber turned to Scott and said, "I couldn't help but notice your accent."

He laughed. "I'd be surprised if you didn't."

"You're Scottish?" she asked.

He nodded. "Right you are, lassie."

"Have you been to the Edinburgh Vaults?" she couldn't help but ask, a light flickering on in her eyes.

He laughed. "Have I been to the vaults," he mocked. "You bet your pretty head I have. It's a national landmark!"

"Really? Is it actually haunted?"

He took a bite out of his sandwich and leaned forward as he continued: "I can't tell you that for sure, but there have been some strange things happening down there. Why, once my cousin Edna was down in the vaults and she swears she was attacked by a spirit! Although, not much has ever happened to me."

"Not scaring her with another ghost story, are you Scotty?" Kirk said as he returned with the food. She thanked him as he set down a plate in front of her with a large turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomatoes sticking out of the side.

Amber smiled and opened her sandwich, taking the tomatoes out. "He's just humoring my historical curiosity," she said, taking a small bite out of one end. "I'd love to see the vaults," she continued, returning her attention to the Scottish man in front of her. "but circumstances in my time prevented me from doing most of what I wanted to."

They grew quiet and it took the captain's spirit to inject cheerfulness in the anxious atmosphere. "Well, if you want foreign, you should talk to Chekov. Where'd he go anyway?"

"We couldn't all leave the bridge at once," Sulu said. "He offered to stay behind."

"Chekov?" Amber questioned.

"Ensign Chekov is our navigator," Spock said.

"He's Russian and he'll be more than glad to tell you everything there is to know about Russia," Kirk said.

Sulu chuckled to himself. "Oh yeah."

"Really?" Amber said, not quite picking up on the joke.

"I'll take you to meet him after we're done here," Uhura promised.

"I don't think so," a new voice said. Amber turned to smile up at McCoy as he stood behind her chair. "I need my patient back in Medical when she's done. We have unfinished business," he said, giving her a pointed look that told her to hurry.

She nodded and took the last few bites of her sandwich before standing, maneuvering around her chair. "I'll take a rain check on that, Nyota," she said, before following McCoy out of the hall.

Nyota waved good bye to her.

The door hissed closed behind Amber and Kirk immediately shook his head, smirking at the woman next to himm. "It's not going to work," he said.

Uhura met Sulu's eyes mischievously. "I don't know what you're talking about."

* * *

><p>Title Reference: "Tides of Time" by Epica<p> 


	3. Chapter 2: Mad World

**Come Hell or High Water**

_Chapter 2: Mad World_

"State your name."

"Amber Sinead Young."

"Age."

"Two hundred sixty eight."

Spock looked up at her with a raised eyebrow that she met with a small smile before squeaking out, "Eighteen." She missed the victorious look Sulu shared with Uhura.

"Date of birth."

"November 10, 1993."

Kirk let out a low whistle at the time difference.

"Most recent location of residence."

"Santa Barbara, California."

"Names of immediate relatives."

"My mother is...was Jennifer Young, and my father was Richard Young, but he died when I was thirteen. My younger brother was Jonathan."

"Cause of premature death."

"Stage 4 Lymphoma."

"In remission as of Stardate 2258.63," McCoy added from his chair.

"Computer, record all data to memory," Spock said, getting to his feet with a straight face. Amber had come to expect this from him, and his lack of emotion didn't seem to bother or concern anyone else aboard the _Enterprise, _so she didn't let it inconvenience her. She chalked it up to one of the many mysteries about this time that she had yet to learn.

_"Data saved to memory,"_ the computer responded moments later.

Amber glanced around the briefing room at the others present. Spock stood in front of the desk with Captain Kirk next to him, McCoy, Sulu, and Uhura seated off to the side with a man that she did not recognize. Amber felt the pressure around her, as if her life was on the line from the formality of it all, but no one shared her concern. The interest in their eyes was not from the rarity of the event, but the subject. They were eager to hear her testimony, to hear about a time two centuries past. She felt more like a lab rat than anything else.

"Investigation #2341765 to be conducted aboard the _USS Enterprise_ and subject to the rulings of Captain James T. Kirk and First Officer Spock. Witnesses are Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy, Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu and Ensign Pavel Chekov," Kirk said, stepping forward to pull a seat up next to Amber. He regarded her with a friendly smile that she tried to return.

Spock took his spot in front of her with his hands clasped behind his back. "Under Starfleet Regulation #23 regarding the treatment and cataloguing of passengers aboard a United Starship, you are required to state your view of events to the best of your knowledge and ability, limits to be determined by your attending physician, Dr. Leonard McCoy. A permanent solution will be decided upon by the captain and myself at the end of the hearing and after discussion. You are entitled to all human rights under the Federation, which include a right to discontinue investigation due to poor health or sudden illness, the right to call for security in cases of kidnap or suspected illicit involvement, and the right to discuss any questions privately with a present party if you find them to be of a personal nature. Do you accept these terms?"

Amber nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Then let's begin," Kirk said. He exuded a cool appearance as he sat there, no worry crossing his face. She heard McCoy mutter "he's got this rigged" and remembered Spock telling her that she was welcome to stay, a room already prepared for her. This hearing seemed only to be a formality to keep up with regulations.

Spock turned to McCoy and said, "Doctor, feel free to intervene at anytime should you feel your patient's medical condition poses a problem."

"Oh, I will," he said, crossing his hands across his chest, his voice gruff and snappish.

"Then, Ms. Young," Spock began. "if you would please begin."

She met the eyes of each of the crew in a quick glance before returning to the dark eyes of her interrogator. "Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much -"

"I will clarify, please begin from your discovery of your illness," Spock repeated over the snickers, the loudest rumbling from Kirk's chest.

"I'm not sure when the cancer started, but I found out about it after a blood test at a physical," Amber said. "At that time, it was already in Stage 3, but the doctor said that my body had only suffered minimally because I had learned to live with it, like my body had adapted to survive almost normally despite the tumors. He said that I had a 60% chance of surviving if I took treatment immediately."

McCoy stood. "I have a question." Spock nodded his permission. "There are no effects of radiation or chemical treatments used to kill cancer cells."

"That's because I chose not to take the treatment," Amber continued. The room stilled and a heaviness settled over them.

"Why?" McCoy asked. "You could have saved your life."

"I had a 40% chance of dying, and those odds where changing against my favor every day. Realistically, treatment would at most extend my life by a matter of months, years if I was lucky. But I didn't want to waste away slowly. If I was going to die, why not get it over with?" She said, her words met with silence. "At least, that's what I thought at the time." She chuckled lowly to herself. "Now that I think about it, I just didn't have the will to live anymore."

Spock nodded to her. "And there was no alternative solution?"

She smiled timidly. "I'm not afraid of dying, Mr. Spock, just afraid of dying in pain. That's what would have happened had I taken chemotherapy."

McCoy returned to his seat without any further words.

Amber continued: "I studied independently for my senior year of school, but only for the minimum requirements. I decided that since I was dying anyway, I'd learn the things that I'd always wanted to know; it was mostly historical facts about different cultures. History was always my favorite subject. I also nearly perfected my German by speaking with a private tutor, but I'm still not quite fluent in it. I did do a whole investigation into the life of Anastasia, though, after I saw the movie."

"Anastasia?" Kirk asked.

The young man that she had no name for stood and cleared his throat. "Anastasia was a young Russian princess during the 20th century that was supposed to have died during the Bolshevik Revolution. There were rumors that she had survived and it sparked a popular legend," he said before taking his seat again, looking somewhat happier.

Amber watched him and felt her face blush once his blue eyes met her own. She nodded. "That's right."

Uhura smirked when she saw Amber's eyes glance to her neighbor more frequently than to anyone else.

"But anyway," Amber murmured, returning her attention to the matter at hand. "I finished school early before going into cardiac arrest. I don't remember anything after that, but I can take an educated guess."

Spock gestured for her to continue. "Please do."

"My mother knew a man that worked in cryonics and he promised her that he could cut her a deal. She liked the idea of having me live to see the future, but I told her I didn't want that. She obviously did it anyway. And," she shrugged. "here I am."

Spock cut the recording off at the computer and leaned down to whisper into Kirk's ear before he was pushed aside.

"This doesn't change anything," Kirk said. "Bones, is she good to leave Medical Bay?"

McCoy nodded after a small hesitation. "For the moment." He watched her, reluctant to push her. The physical strain could still be too much for her. For some reason, his chest constricted when he thought of what might happen if she wasn't careful in her recovery. Even with the uncountable medical possiblities she would have to tackle, adjusting her mind and accepting all that had been forced upon her would be challenge enough.

"Uhura, can you show our guest to her room?"

Nyota jumped to her feet. "Yes, Captain." She waited until Kirk and Spock left the room before smiling eagerly and taking Amber over to the small group left behind. "I'm sure you remember Sulu, but this is Pavel Chekov, our navigator," she introduced.

Chekov smiled and politely shook her hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he greeted. As she took his hand, he noticed how soft her skin was, how it glided over his own. Her temperature was low, her body still recovering from intense cold, but it was a welcome change from the warm flush of his own skin. Like the Russian phrase says, "cold hands, warm heart."

She smiled and he noticed how pale her lips still were. "You too," she returned. Her eyes stilled in his own deep blue irises, reflecting into the ocean doors to his soul. His eyes couldn't look away from her chocolate orbs.

Sulu smirked when Uhura nudged him and nodded to the door.

"So," Chekov began awkwardly, glancing around the room to try and gather his thoughts. "You studied the legend of Anastasia?"

She nodded. "I love the time period she was born into. A lot of things happened that pretty much determined how the next hundred years would play out. Although, she's got nothing on Rasputin."

"Rasputin?" He laughed. "Of all Russian figures, you choose Rasputin."

"He was a great man, even if he was a lecher."

Chekov shook his head. "He gives Russia a bad name. Not all Russian men are like that."

She nodded, shifting her weight between each foot. "I know. One of my best friends was Russian. Kindest man I ever knew."

"Of course he was. Russian's are known for their kindness."

Amber laughed. "Two words - Joseph Stalin."

"Aye, aye, aye," he muttered. "We need to have a talk," he said, pointing between them.

Amber laughed. "I look forward to it."

They grew silent as their conversation ended, sounding more like a date than anything else. Both teens realized this and could have sworn the room grew hotter by many degrees. Amber looked everywhere but Chekov. Chekov looked everywhere but Amber. They both still felt the others presence in front of them like an anchor.

"Um," Amber began, noticing that they were alone. "Where did Nyota go?" She met Chekov's eyes and laughed with him. "I believe we've been set up."

"It would appear that way," he agreed. "Shall I show you to your room, then?" he offered.

Amber's smile slowly warmed up her face with a light blush. "I would appreciate it very much."

* * *

><p>Clothed in nothing but the bare essentials, Amber's room was located on the outer rim of the ship not far from Medical. She assumed that McCoy had demanded he have easy access to her and she didn't blame him - she had yet to tell him about all her allergies. With all the times she had spent as his patient and all those yet to come, easy access would be the least of his worries.<p>

She sighed and sat down on her bed, running her hand over the comforter. The fabric was soft and fluffy and the bed sunk with her weight. She briefly wondered if they used memory foam for their mattresses, like astronauts used to. The two pillows were set up against the headboard cutely, the top of the duvet folded over slightly at the corners. A dresser was tucked against the wall, drawers empty and waiting for her to fill them with her own fashions. Glancing down at the dress that Kirk had generously given to her, she hoped that the opportunity would arise where new clothes would be within her reach. One dress most certainly would not last her the rest of her life.

Chekov stood at the door, watching Amber walk around the room and inspect everything from the closet to the drawers in the desk. When she was satisfied, she turned to him and said, "It's empty." Tone plain and slightly confused, she appeared unsure of herself in the room. Empty it may be, but it didn't feel like home yet.

He nodded. "Starfleet provides the essentials, but it's yours to decorate as you wish."

She murmured something he couldn't hear to herself, glancing around one more time before grinning at Chekov. "Thank you, Mr. Chekov."

He smiled in return. "No problem at all."

The awkward silence returned and forced Amber to play with her hands and not look at her guest, but prevented Chekov from leaving. Each found each other through the corners of their eyes. Amber ran her hands over the wall panelling as she circled around the room again.

_"Computer #14 activated,"_ a voice came. A small block of wall lit up with yellow lights next to the bed.

Amber jumped back, holding her hands up. "I didn't do it!"

Chekov laughed and moved to stand next to her, turning the computer off with the press of a button. The lights dimmed before going out all together as it powered down. "That's the Replicator," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Replicator?"

He nodded his head and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll show you how to use it. If you ever get hungry, just-"

_"Mr. Chekov, report to the bridge,"_ Uhura's filtered voice echoed in the room.

Amber jumped again, looking around. "That's going to take some getting used to."

Chekov frowned and gave her an apologetic gaze. "I'll be right back."

"Take your time," Amber said, sitting down in a chair and holding her hands up. "I won't touch anything. I swear."

He laughed and jogged out of the room and down the hall in a rush. It wasn't even five minutes before there was a knock at her door that had her searching the wall for a clue on how to open it.

"Who is it?" she called out tentatively, her fingers opening a small panel with a key pad next to the entrance.

"It's McCoy."

"Just give me one...second..." She trailed off as she held her hand poised above the keys. She cursed technology. There were so many buttons - letters and numbers and symbols and colors. Which one was she supposed to press? She wished that a simple "open" button was part of the pad.

"The code is 5500," McCoy said through the door, his tone unable to conceal his smile.

"Right," she said, pressing the code in quickly. The door slid open with a hiss before McCoy, allowing him to enter and laugh silently at her as she stood glaring at the controls. "It would've been a great help if someone had told me that before."

"Didn't Lieutenant Uhura walk you through everything?"

She shook her head. "Nyota mysteriously vanished back in that other room. Mr. Chekov walked me over here, but he was called away before he could explain much."

McCoy sighed and shook his head. "Anyway, just wanted to check to make sure you were okay. You've had a long day."

Amber smiled. "I'm all right. Just," she gestured to the pad next to the door with a uncertain wave of her hand. "a little out of place, that's all." The doctor watched as her smile faded, her attention wavering. "It'll take some time."

He was silent for a moment. "You'll have plenty of that, no doubt," he said.

She forced a chuckle. "Yeah," she agreed. "I don't suppose I'll be going anywhere for a while."

He nodded. "We won't be returning to Earth until all the Vulcans are safe on their new planet, and who knows how long that'll take."

McCoy took one look at her and felt a longing for his own daughter swell within his stomach. Was this what his Joanna would look like years now? Beautiful and vibrant and young, yet hopefully happier than Amber was, with long brown hair and his own eyes set into her heart shaped face? Would she be small, like her mother and Amber, or tall like her father?

He glanced down the hall quickly to make sure no one was within listening distance before he stepped over to her. "I'll show you how this contraption works," his voice rumbled out.

She smiled. "Thank you very much, Doctor."

He patted her on the shoulder. "No problem, kid. Somebody's got to do their job around here."

In the span of half an hour, McCoy showed her how her computer functioned. He taught her how to open, close and lock the door, how to call for someone in another area of the ship, how to work the Replicator in case she was hungry or thirsty, how to access the ship's library, how to work the lights and change the temperature of her quarters if she wished, and how to open the large window that nearly engulfed the entire wall next to her bed if she wanted to stare at the stars.

She walked over and raised a hand to the glass, her mouth open in surprise and her eyes wide with awe. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched a comet fly by in the distance.

She spun around and opened her mouth to ask him how she knew she loved to look out into space when he interrupted her.

"Sickbay is constantly monitored. I saw you looking out all night," he smirked. "That's why we cleaned this place up for you. Figured it'd make you more comfortable."

She grinned, and he felt happier than he should have that it was the first one that engulfed her face. "You just wanted me close enough to constantly pester me with your 'medical expertise.'"

He was silent before nodding. "True enough."

The door slid open with a soft hiss and Amber and McCoy both watched Chekov stand in the doorway, surprised and somewhat flustered at the doctor's presence.

"Doctor McCoy," he greeted with a nodded of his head.

"Chekov," McCoy returned. He watched Chekov carefully, not missing the glance and rising blush on his face as he looked to Amber before turning away quickly. The doctor didn't miss Amber's red cheeks either as she smiled at Chekov.

He shook his head and muttered, "Kids," before heading to leave. He paused at the door and turned back to Amber. "Speaking of my expertise, I want to see you in two hours in my office," he said.

She nodded. "I'll be there."

The door glided shut behind him and left Chekov alone with Amber.

"Have fun?" she asked with a smile, returning to her window.

He shrugged. "As much fun as plotting courses can be."

She nodded. He watched her stare at the stars, her eyes sweeping around the vast expanse, lighting up and glittering with excitement. A smile found its way to his face at her joy. "You like the stars?"

"Very much. I hardly ever saw the stars where I lived. There was too much pollution and the city was always lit, so it never got dark enough." A nostalgic smile took refuge on her lips. "It's a nice change."

Chekov smiled and turned to the computer next to the window. "Then, you might prefer...these," he said as he punched in a code.

She watched as the stars rearranged themselves into new patterns before settling down on the black canvas. She blinked at her guest. "What did you just do?"

"These are the stars as they look right now above North America," he said. He stepped closer and let his left hand shift her to the side a little with soft pressure to the top of her back. Amber was painfully aware how warm his hand was through the fabric of her shirt. He began tracing a constellation with his right. "See? This is Orion wearing his belt, and Andromeda is over here, and Cancer is all the way out there, and Aries is below the horizon right now. You won't be able to see that until later. And Draco is right here."

"Like the dragon?"

He smiled. "Yes. Draco means dragon in Latin. Almost every civilization has had a myth for Draco. Hercules is at its bottom right, right about here."

"You know, I saw a movie about the myth of Draco," Amber began. Chekov turned to her, waiting to hear her story. It didn't escape him that this was the first time she had revealed anything about her life, or that he was the first to hear such stories. He didn't want his hopes to run ahead of him, but he felt a bit important and special momentarily. "It was about the middle ages where dragons existed. Draco was the last of them. He gave his heart to save a knight and joined the other dragons in the stars. It was my favorite when I was a kid."

Chekov smiled. "You will have to show me sometime. It sounds very nice."

She blushed. "Sure," she whispered. "You know a lot about constellations."

"Well, I'm the navigator. It's my job to know where we are. I memorized them when I was in the Academy."

"Academy?" she asked.

"The Starfleet Academy."

"What's Starfleet?" she asked.

It took Chekov a moment to remember that she didn't know anything about Starfleet or the Federation before he answered her. He'd have to explain everything from scratch, and he wasn't sure where he should begin.

"Starfleet is a peacekeeping branch of the Federation of Planets. It's headquarters is on Earth, but many different species are a part of it, including our very own Mr. Spock," Chekov explained.

"And this Federation is kind of like an interplanetary government?"

Chekov nodded with a smile. "Yes, something like that. It is more like," he trailed off, trying to think of an example that she'd recognize as he searched through his memory of history she would be familiar with. "It is like the United Nations - it solves conflicts and has laws, but does not directly rule alien races."

She nodded. "If you don't mind my asking, what is Mr. Spock?"

"He is a Vulcan."

She thought about it for a moment, remembering McCoy mention something about Vulcans. "Doctor McCoy said that the _Enterprise _is helping to establish a Vulcan planet or something?"

Chekov nodded slowly, his face grave. "Vulcan was destroyed, so a new colony must be established. There are hundreds of refugees on board right now."

She turned to him with a frown and watery eyes. "That's terrible."

"Yes," he agreed. He watched the sorrow sink into her eyes and felt his chest constrict. She had no reason to look so miserable. He yearned to do something to see her smile again, to see that glow light up her face and the satisfaction that came from knowing it was all because of him.

He cleared his throat. "So," he began, Amber turning to him with wide eyes. "I guess Doctor McCoy answered your questions for you."

She paused, her face crinkling as she thought. "Most of them. I get how to use the computer in my room now...well, mostly," she added, smiling when he chuckled. "What is there to do around here besides read through the library?"

"I'm afraid there's not much. Everyone else here has duties that keep the ship running or research they are working on. And I'm positive you would not find the Vulcans good company," Chekov regretfully told her.

She sighed. "I was afraid of that. And there aren't any physical books, are there?"

"Not many, I'm afraid. Everything is digital."

She sighed again and sat back onto the bed. "I'm going to die of boredom."

He laughed. "I'd invite you to the bridge, but I'm sure the captain would not appreciate the distraction."

She nodded. "It's the thought that counts."

Chekov swallowed and glanced hesitantly at the door. "I'm sorry, but I must return to my post."

She sat up quickly, getting to her feet instantaneously. "Yeah, of course. Don't let me keep you. I'm sure we'd hit an asteroid or something if you weren't there, right?" he joked.

He chuckled. "Something like that." He met her eyes for a few seconds and let his heart pang with longing. It had been a long time since he had last spent time with someone his age, and it didn't hurt that she was a beautiful and intelligent young woman. He promised himself that he'd keep her company, not only for his own sake; she had a very fragile air to her, as if one shock would send her crumbling. A strange urge had him yearning to protect her.

He coughed. "Well, I'll be going then," he said, leaving the room with slow paces. Amber waved him off until he was out of sight and the door hissed shut behind him.

She put a hand to her chest over her racing heart.

"I wake up hundreds of years in the future and the first thing I do is try to get a guy to like me," she scolded herself. She flopped back onto the bed with a groan. "I need a hobby."

* * *

><p>Amber sat up on the bed in Sickbay, letting McCoy run his instruments over her and write notes to himself on her medical file. She didn't interrupt him as he worked, a fact he was glad for, but busied herself with watching all the other patients walk in and out to consult with Nurse Chapel. It did not escape her notice that they were all similar to Spock, all Vulcans, and that they all behaved in the exact same manner - no emotions. They all spoke the same way with few inflections. She now understood what Chekov had meant by the quality of their company; they didn't seem like the type to make small talk.<p>

McCoy sighed a pulled up a chair next to her. "Well, everything checks out all right," he said.

She cocked her head to the side. "Then why the sigh?"

"You're severely behind on your vaccinations. We're gonna have to start from scratch."

She froze and felt her pulse race. "Vaccinations?"

McCoy was oblivious to her state. "Yeah, dozens of them. Not only have Earth diseases mutated since you were last around, there are alien disease too." He let out a deep sigh. "I hope we have all of these," he muttered to himself.

As soon as he stood up, she was on her feet, tip-toeing to the door as silently and stealthily as her body allowed her to.

"Where do you think you're going?" he scolded her. She froze at his anger and turned around slowly with a timid smile. He stared her down with his arms folded across his chest, looking very much like a father.

"Well, you know, I was getting kind of hungry, so I think I'll go get something to eat for the night-"

"I don't think so. Sit back down and let me find the syringes."

She chuckled nervously. "Is-is that really necessary? I mean, everything's pretty sterile in space anyway, right? I can't get sick."

Understanding dawned on his face and he laughed. How silly it was for her to be afraid of a small shot. "Relax. It'll only pinch for a second."

She scowled. "All doctors say that and then you're stuck trying to deal with a limp arm."

He laughed. "Just sit down."

Amber shuffled her feet back to the bed and watched with dread as McCoy approached her with a tray full of injections. A wince pulled her away from him when he pulled the cap off of one and reached out for her arm. She looked away, a childish whine escaping her throat.

"Don't be a baby," he told her, quickly jabbing her in the arm for a few seconds. He repeated this twice, once below the first injection and the second on her other arm.

"Well, that takes care of measles, mumps, and tetanus," he said, crossing a few checks onto his papers. "Not much of a dent."

Amber rubbed her arms and looked away from him, muttering about vampire doctors and their need for pain. McCoy shook his head. "Just be here again in two weeks and we'll do a few more. I can give you some relaxants if you really want."

She nodded. "Some Valium would be nice."

He laughed. "I'll give you something a lot stronger than that. You'll be asleep for days. Although," he stood and faced her with a raised eyebrow. "maybe all you need is a Russian hand to hold onto."

Amber gaped at him like a fish out of water as her face grew as red as a tomato. "W-w-what on earth - what are you talking about? I don't-I don't know what you mean," she stuttered.

McCoy smirked.

"I-I-I-mean, Chekov is nice and all, but he doesn't - I don't - we don't," she trailed off. She had a brief picture in her head of Chekov standing by her side, squeezing her hand tightly with a smile on his face as his hand ran through her hair, holding her to him loosely and overwhelming her with soft whispers so that she didn't notice the small pinches in her arm.

McCoy didn't ask her to continue her train of thought once her face was completely flushed all the way to her ears and her eyes grow wide and glassy. He figured he just didn't want to know.

* * *

><p>Title Reference: "Mad World" by Michael Andrews<p> 


	4. Chapter 3: Missing

**Come Hell or High Water**

_Chapter 3: Missing_

Amber sat in the Mess Hall with a PADD in her hands as she flipped through another book. Her eyes skimmed down the tablet at a quick pace, not leaving even as she took a bite out of an old-style Philly cheese-steak. Like the last book, this one was set on another planet where an Orion slave girl was saved by a chivalrous human man who whisks her away to Earth and promises to protect her forever. Amber would have gagged, but every book seemed to follow this basic plot with few deviations. The last had been between a Romulan and a human woman, the one before about the inner workings of a Vulcan relationship before marriage. She had liked this one the best, but still had a strange yearning to read Harry Potter again although she had yet to find a copy, hardcover or digital.

She sighed and turned the PADD off, feeling a headache set in. Her hands went through her hair and rested on the table as she took up her cup and began sipping at her orange juice.

It had been three weeks since she had awoken in Sickbay and every move she made still seemed out of place. Everything was still foreign to her and she felt increasingly alien among her own kind. No one sat to talk with her anymore, no one turned to her with curiosity in the hallways. She only ever saw McCoy in his office as he continued to vaccinate her and fill out her medical record for when she returned to Earth. She often found herself staying to chat with him or Nurse Chapel, who had taken on a very motherly role as of late, and she couldn't deny she appreciated it.

Often she found herself wondering if Chekov would come to visit her or if she would run into him, but he made himself scarce. She knew he was probably working most of the time, unable to leave the bridge, but a strange urge had taken hold of her and she yearned to see him again. He had been nice company, careful not to overwhelm her but kind enough not to hide the truth. That, and he was ridiculously adorable.

Returning her dishes, Amber leisurely made her way down the hall back to her room. She wasn't startled by the people or their conversations, wasn't alarmed by the many Vulcans that had started roaming around the ship, a fact she was proud of. She had learned much from the libraries about this time, but most of it was still strange to her. If there was ever a time she needed Chekov to explain something to her, it was now. Maybe if she looked for him on the bridge he'd be willing to spare a few moments at the end of his day, but she never sought him out this way, lost as she was.

She stopped when a hard body rammed into her legs, wrapping its arms around her knees before looking down. Dark eyes under slanted eyebrows stared up at her. It was a child, no more than a few years old, and obviously Vulcan. A soft sob escaped the toddlers mouth as he reached his arms up for her.

"What are you doing here?" she said, taking him up in her arms. He was slightly heavier than a normal baby as she shifted his weight against her hip. "Where are your parents?"

"Tyvik," a voice called out.

Amber and the child turned to watch an older Vulcan approach, his arms still at his sides. He stopped a few feet from Amber and held a hand out to the child, his face not changing from its stoic expression. "Tyvik, come here," he called out. The toddler shook his head fiercely and clung to Amber, wrapping his arms around her neck.

The elder observed the child that she held and said, "I apologize for my brother's actions."

She waved off his concern. "It's no problem. He's adorable."

As Tyvik calmed down and snuggled against Amber, the other Vulcan continued. "I believe he is very fond of you due to your physical similarities to our mother."

She smiled, patting his back. "I'm honored," she said. She held a hand out. "I'm Amber."

He glanced at her hand but never took it. "I am Surok," he said. Amber let her arm drop awkwardly, realizing that he had no intention of shaking hands with her. She tossed the fact into her memory banks: Vulcans do not shake hands. "And he is Tyvik, my younger brother."

"Your brother?" she said, moving Tyvik to rest on her other hip so she could look at him. He gazed at her without any expressions. "I wish my brother was as cute as you," she cooed.

Amber knew that there were many aspects of Vulcan culture that she didn't know, among them family habits, but when little Tyvik patted a hand to her temple, she would never have predicted Surok's response. His tiny hand rested against her skin and she felt a strong impulse of relief, want, and love wash over her until Surok pulled the child away forcefully, scolding him in what she suspected was the Vulcan language.

Tyvik's eyes watered as he reached for Amber, pounding away at his brother's arms as they tightened around him. Surok jerked Tyvik to him and said firmly, "She is not our mother. Mother is gone."

Tyvik calmed slightly but his tears began to spill over his cheeks. He bit at his fingers as small sobs escaped his chest.

Amber kneeled down next to him and patted his back. She whispered soft sounds of comfort to him until he stopped crying and leaned back into her arms, holding onto her. She smiled and held him.

Surok stayed where he was with a slight disapproving tint to his eyes. "I apologize. It is a very strong offense to engage another in a mind meld without consent."

"It's all right," she assured him. "He's just confused."

Surok's face took on a strange look as he examined her closely, analysing her facial features deeply. She felt slightly awkward under his scrutinizing glance, but didn't back down, keeping his eyes. He looked to be thinking.

"You are Amber Young," he said at last.

She nodded. "How did you-"

"You are a very common topic of conversation. Many of my kind have been interested in speaking with you," he replied.

She felt a small blush rising to her cheeks as she smiled. "You must not meet many time travellers," she joked.

He didn't seem to pick up on her humor. "I have never known of any other beings traversing space in such a manner. Is this common in your time?"

She shook her head. "Never mind," she muttered. "Bad joke."

He took a moment to process in which Amber picked up Tyvik in her arms and rocked him back and forth in slow motions. He was soon asleep against her chest, sucking on his thumb softly. She smiled and stood, smoothing his hair with the palm of her hand.

Surok stood with her and watched his younger brother. He reached an arm out to take hold of him. "It is time for his nap," he stated.

She nodded and handed him his brother, watching as he turned to walk away with nothing more than a nod. When he was halfway down the hallway she called out his name. He paused, turned, and watched her with dark eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "about what happened to Vulcan."

He seemed taken off guard and took his time to give her a small nod before continuing on his way. Not quite sure what to make of it, she knew then that there was still much she needed to learn.

* * *

><p>Amber shuffled into Sickbay while rubbing her tired eyes. Yawning loudly she waved to McCoy who sat far too awake at his desk with a smirk.<p>

"Take a seat," he said, pointing to the bed nearest him.

She waved him off and went to lay down. It was a testament to how tired she was that she didn't protest in the smallest bit when he rolled up her sleeve to quickly inject her with three more vaccinations, only a slight grimace on her lips.

He murmured to himself while checking her file with a smile. "You haven't been sleeping well?"

She shook her head. "I was just up late."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's new."

She chuckled lightly, shrugging. "Finally found something that interests me."

"Really?" he said with nothing more than polite interest.

"I had an interesting encounter with a Vulcan toddler yesterday," she began. McCoy nearly froze and turned his full attention to her unusual. "His older brother came to collect him, of course, but it was strange. I've been researching Vulcan culture and mannerisms and stuff like that."

"Did these Vulcans have names?"

She nodded. "Surok and Tyvik."

"Ah, Surok," McCoy tsked his tongue in recognition and disapproval. "I told that kid to stay in bed," he muttered angrily to himself. "He had a serious concussion. He has no business walking about for a long time."

She sat up and yawned again, her jaw opening widely. "He seemed fine. I think he was just chasing after his brother."

"Then he needs a babysitter," McCoy snapped, setting her file onto his desk. "Anyway, you're good to go."

She nodded. "Thank you, doct-"

The door slid open revealing a very flustered Kirk followed by four men in red shirts carrying a stretcher. "Bones, we have a problem," he said, pointing for the men to carry their patient to the nearest bed. "One of the Vulcans collapsed."

McCoy immediately snapped into his work mode as he rushed over to examine the Vulcan, who could be no more than twenty years old and looked faintly familiar.

Amber stood and leaned over the newcomer's head with comprehension dawning over her. "Surok!" she exclaimed.

Surok opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the bright light over his head. "Amber," he croaked in recognition.

She nodded, thinking that he found a familiar presence to be a tad calming. "I'm here."

"Tyvik," he said, moving to sit up. He didn't get very far before a loud groan ripped from his throat and he fell back, holding his head. "Tyvik," he repeated.

McCoy scowled and latched his arms against the bed. "I thought I told you to stay in bed weeks ago or else this would happen."

He shook his head. "I need to find Tyvik," he called out.

Amber patted his shoulder, unaware of his delayed flinch from her touch. "I'll go find him," she said. "Just...relax."

She rushed out of the room and ran down the halls, calling for the young Vulcan in a loud voice. Many Starfleet personnel glanced at her before continuing on. Multiple times she had to pause and side-skirt larger groups of people or wait for a door to open before continuing but she found the search otherwise uninhibited. Amber ignored most of the strange stars in her frantic search for the Vulcan toddler until she ran into someone tall yet soft. Before she could find herself on the floor, two strong arms shot out and grabbed her by the waist, steadying her on her feet instantaneously.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"No problem. Are you all right?"

Amber's face shot up to the stranger after hearing the familiar accent and smiled at her savior. "I'm fine, Mr. Chekov. I hope I didn't run into you too hard."

He smiled. "You are too small to cause any damage," he joked.

She playfully pushed him on the shoulder. "I'm not small - I'm fun-sized."

Chekov chuckled and helped her to her feet by the arms. "Is there a reason you are in such a hurry, Amber?"

She nodded. "I'm on a mission to find a missing toddler."

He raised an eyebrow. "A...toddler?" he asked her, unsure.

"One of the Vulcans is injured and his little brother is somewhere on his own."

Chekov nodded his understanding and shifted aside to let Amber go past. "Would you like any help?" he offered hesitantly.

She smiled and said, "That'd be great."

Chekov smiled in return, feeling his heart flutter. "So, what does he look like?"

She put a finger to her chin and thought for a moment. "Well, he has...dark eyes and dark hair and...these eyebrows," she paused and saw that none of this made Tyvik any more distinguishable than any other Vulcan. She waved off his confusion. "Just look for a small Vulcan who likes to bite his fingers."

Chekov chuckled. "I will. Meet me in Medical Bay in one hour?"

She nodded. "One hour."

Her feet carried her quickly down the halls before she had the chance to see if Chekov had taken off in the opposite direction. No matter how many times she called out Tyvik's name, he didn't seem to be anywhere. She paused and swore to herself. She should have asked where Surok had been found before taking off on her own.

"Hey, lassie!" someone called out. Amber turned around and found Scott waving at her happily as he approached. "What are you doing this far down the ship?"

She took a moment to take a deep breath and calm her racing heart. "One of the Vulcans is hurt and his brother is missing. You haven't seen a toddler around, have you, sir?"

Scott laughed and waved her off. "No need to be so formal, Scotty will do," he said with a smile. "And your toddler is fine. He's sitting in my office. Seemed to be in quite a state too. Kept sending me pictures of you, so I thought I'd come to find you."

Amber heaved a great sigh. "Oh, thank God," she breathed.

Scotty laughed and led her to his office where, upon entering, Amber found Tyvik sitting in the large chair and spinning it slowly, his entire attention focused on pushing off from the desk to circle around.

"Tyvik!" she called out.

The toddler stopped and, though his expression didn't change, he slid off the chair and waddled over to her, jumping for her to hold him. She smiled and obliged, hoisting him up to her hip. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Your brother's waiting," she turned to Scotty and smiled her thanks. "Thank you so much."

He laughed. "No problem. Easiest baby I've ever met."

She took her time getting back to Sickbay, enjoying the strange mental conversation she had with Tyvik. He liked to keep his hand to her face and never spoke a word, but she knew this to be his custom. After learning how telepathic Vulcans are, his actions made a lot more sense.

He seemed to be telling her everything that popped into his mind, from the strange plants he had seen in the gardens to memories from Vulcan to meeting a strange man in red who had showed him many buttons that made strange sounds when pushed. He sent her the picture of a stuffed bear that one of the Starfleet yeomen had given him and she felt his confusion at its purpose - it was soft and warm, but what did it do? He remember throwing it and regretting it when it tore, crying to Surok to fix it, who scolded him for ruining a gift.

She smiled. "We'll find you a new one, okay?" she told him, patting his head.

He nodded and sent her a wave of satisfaction.

When she arrived in Sickbay, Surok was asleep in his bed with Nurse Chapel at his side, writing on a clipboard. Chekov was sitting in a chair across from McCoy. He stood up and smiled when he saw her enter.

"There you are!" he exclaimed. He looked down at the child and said, "I see you found him."

She nodded and set Tyvik down. He ran over and tapped at his brother's fingers, stretching to reach over the side of the bed. He seemed to relax when Surok's body did before running back over to Amber. He held two of his fingers against her own and stood next to her patiently. Amber smiled. "Vulcan children aren't all that different, are they?" she said to no one in particular.

McCoy shook his head. "The kid seems attached to you," he said.

She shrugged. "Surok said I look like their mother."

Chekov smiled. "It is very kind of you to humor him," he said.

She turned to him and said, "Well, I figure he needs some stability after what happened. I'm glad to be useful for once."

McCoy scoffed. "For once? Do you know how much I've learned from you being here?"

She laughed. "I know, I'm a doctor's dream."

Tyvik sent her a wave of confusion at her expression, but she smiled and shook her head, picking him up again. "Don't you worry," she told him. She felt his comfort at being in her arms as he look back to his brother. He reached out a finger and pointed to him, looking back at her. She smiled. "He'll be fine. He's just sleeping."

He let his hand drop and move to reach out two fingers to Chekov with wide eyes. The Russian looked confused. "What does he want?" he asked.

"He wishes to establish telepathic contact," a voice came.

They group turned to look at Surok as he sat up on the bed looking very refreshed. "It is acceptable to return the gesture if a child initiates it," he continued.

Chekov nodded and placed two fingers to the small hand outstretched to him. A strong feeling of confusion at his accent flew through him and he laughed. The toddler's next emotion tickled and felt like an intense form of amusement and curiosity, a sort of fascination.

Amber felt it too, from the hand on her face and laughed. "He does have a funny accent, doesn't he?"

Chekov pouted in mock hurt. "Hey."

Tyvik dropped his fingers and leaned down to rest his head on Amber's shoulder, watching the humans around him. Surok stood from his bed and walked to stand next to Amber, holding his arms out for his brother. "I thank you for watching Tyvik," he said.

She nodded and passed the toddler along. "It was no problem. I'm happy I could help."

Surok nodded. McCoy stood and ran his scanner over the Vulcan with a scowl. "I hope this time you will stay in your room instead of running about," he ordered.

Surok nodded. "I will try. Tyvik often finds his way out of our room."

A thought came to Amber. "Well, if you ever need someone to watch him," she said, letting the offer hang open.

He turned to her. "I would appreciate the help, but humans are not suitable for taking care of Vulcan children. Biological differences make it-"

She sighed and shrugged. "It was just an offer. If you ever need a few hours to yourself, I'm right down the hall," she said, waving goodbye with a smile while feeling the sting of his rejection. Maybe she really wasn't suitable for this time, if she wasn't able to even take care of a child for a few hours.

"Miss Amber, wait!"

She stopped and turned to find Chekov jogging out to meet her. He skidded to a halt. "Yes?"

He swallowed and folded his hands behind his back habitually. "If you are not busy,"

"Nope."

He laughed. "Would you like to get something to eat?" he asked hopefully, waiting for her answer with wide eyes.

She felt her cheeks go red as she nodded. "I'd like that very much," she said.

He smiled and nodded. "Great. Come, the Mess Hall is this way," he said, taking her by the hand and leading her down the hallway.

Amber felt a perverted sort of satisfaction as they walked and chatted on everything they could think of - he tried to convince her that Russia had the very first space program while she tried to explain the advantage of paper versus digital books. She told him how she had barely passed science and he offered to tutor her until she sent him the most horrid look of disgust she could muster. With a gentle push at her back he ushered her into the hall and helped her with her food, going so far as to pull her chair out for her before seating himself. They ate with a smile and occasional blushes, and it wasn't until they stood to leave that Amber noticed he still maintained a grip on her hand..

She wondered if he noticed how hot her skin was. He wondered if she noticed how right it felt.

* * *

><p>Amber had begun to differentiate between night and day on the ship. Scotty had told her that the lights were set on a timer so that they dimmed and brightened in the right hours to mimic time as it would be on Earth. She stood in the low light of her quarters in front of the floor length mirror brushing her hair, guessing the time to be around nine at night. Nyota had been kind enough to lend her a pair of pajamas, but as she was much taller than Amber herself, they didn't quite fit. The shorts were too baggy and the shirt was too long, but it was better than nothing. The Lieutenant had left her with a promise that she would get her some clothes on the next shore leave, but with no date as to when that would be. Until then, she would have to make due.<p>

Amber set the brush down on the nightstand and pulled her hair back into a loose bun. She smiled softly to herself before she heard a hard knock on the door that was almost rushed. She punched in the code and the door slid open to reveal Chekov standing at the threshold with a quick smile.

He held up a hardcover book in his hand. "I found something that you might like," he said, offering her the tome.

She laughed, giddy as she and snatched it away, turning it over to read the cover. She frowned when she realized that she couldn't read it.

He chuckled and patted her shoulder. "It is called _Crime and Punishment_. It is a classic from my homeland."

She smiled. "I've read this," she said, turning her head to look at him with confused eyes, watching the pleasantly surprised expression rise to his face. "But why would you give this to me? I don't know Russian."

He smiled. "I will teach you," he said. Here he bowed his head and avoided her eyes, clasping his hands together behind his back. "I realize that you must be very bored all alone in the middle of space, so I thought that you might like some company sometimes, if that is all rig-"

Amber jumped up and threw her arms around his neck, having to hold her by the waist to keep her from falling. Gently he set her feet back on the ground and his face began to burn when her arms didn't retract, keeping her small body pressed flush against his own. His shoulders hunched over to accommodate her stature and his hand patted her on the back a few times, unsure of how he should respond and desperately praying that she wouldn't hear the pounding of his racing heart.

She pulled back with a large smile. "I would like that very much, Mr. Chekov."

He gulped and nodded. Her eyes were too honest, too beautiful for him to stare into, as much as he wanted to. "Call me Pavel, please," he croaked, voice leaving him.

She nodded. "All right, Pavel," she said. A shiver went through his body. Memory couldn't remind him of a time when his name had sounded so _good_. "Thank you very much."

He nodded, standing to his full height and clearing his throat. "Then, I will see you tomorrow?"

She nodded her head furiously. "If you're not too busy," she said, clutching the book in her hands to her chest tightly, hoping that he would agree.

He smiled and walked backwards towards the door, unwilling to look away from her eager gaze. "Great, great," he muttered. "Excellent. I will see you then. Will three o'clock work? I have a lunch break-"

She smiled. "Three's fine. It's not like I have much to do."

He returned the grin. "Great. I will see you then," he repeated.

She nodded and watched him exit her room, the door sliding shut behind him. Her face was warm and her cheeks creased when she raised a hand to her skin. Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her with shaking fingers and a flushed skin. The book was hurriedly placed next to her bed and to the left of her clock as she slid under that soft covers of her bed. A large smile was still on her lips when she fell asleep, joyously waiting for tomorrow.

Outside, Chekov stood paralysed in from of her door, holding a hand to his heart and breathing deeply, unable to force the smile from his face. Where he had found the courage to ask Amber and find an excuse to spend time with her he'd never know, especially after he had looked for an opportunity all these weeks. A giddy laugh rose up in his throat as he turned to return to his own quarters.

He paused when he found McCoy standing, watching him with a hand on his hip, smirking as he walked by and patted the Ensign's shoulder. "Get lucky?"

* * *

><p>Title Reference - "Missing" by Evanescence<p> 


	5. Chapter 4: Puppy Love

**Come Hell or High Water**

_Chapter 4: Puppy Love_

The Mess Hall slowly filled with personnel as the lunch hour entered into full swing. Engineering and the Bridge were conspicuously absent, as their shift was an hour earlier, so when Chekov was spotted in a back corner, more than a few people were confused. No one but the navigator himself knew of why he was there at such an odd hour, devoid of the presence of his friends.

Chekov tapped his foot, cheking the clock on the wall once again. 3:35. She was late. He sighed angrily and ran a hand through his hair, chomping on the last bit of his sandwich somewhat frustrated. Fear bubbled up inside him and tried to convince him that he had been stood up, but he argued fiercely. It wasn't a date, he couldn't be angry at Amber for not being here. Maybe she had forgotten or changed her mind, or decided that she would simply translate the book herself with the Universal Translator that her computer had access to - provided she even knew it was there. Any number of things could have happened; it didn't necessarily have to be him.

The chair next to him groaned against the floor as it was pulled out, startling Chekov out of his thoughts. He turned to a smiling Uhura who raised an eyebrow at his lonesome state. "So, on your own today?" she asked him suspiciously.

He sighed and threw out his pretences, slumping disappointed in his chair. It had been her idea to teach Amber, after all. "She said she would be here," he told her, clearly moping.

Uhura smiled at his childlike actions and patted his shoulder. "Then she'll be here. I can't imagine why she wouldn't," she told him. "After all, you are quite the catch," she teased.

He sighed, not bothering to react to her words. "Maybe I was too early. We have hardly spoken since the first few days she was here," he trailed off into his thoughts. "Perhaps I should have-"

Uhura elbowed him hard and he paused. "Ow, what?" he exclaimed. She gestured with her head nonchalantly towards the door where Amber stood looking around quickly, searching the cafeteria with a hand to her chest, panting heavily. When she found his figure, she smiled and walked quickly over to Chekov's table, eyes locked on his.

She stood across from him with the most apologetic look he had ever seen. "I'm so sorry. I got lost," she said, laughing slightly at herself.

He smiled. "It is no problem. Please, have a seat," he said, pulling the chair out next to him for her and placing his PADD on the table between them.

Uhura smirked and stood. "I guess I'll leave you two alone," she said, making her way out of the hall. Before she left through the double doors, she turned and glanced at the two teenagers, smiling to herself. Amber sat on the edge of her chair, leaning towards Chekov who had edged himself closer to her as well. Nyota wondered if either noticed the way that their hands fell together beneath the table almost instantly.

"I see you've been busy."

Uhura jumped at the unexpected voice, turning to find Kirk standing in the doorway with a smirk, looking at the exact same scene she had been. He raised an eyebrow at her. "You're handiwork?"

She scoffed at him and began to push him out of the Mess. "Yes and they're in a good mood, so no one bother them right now."

"But I'm hungry!" he whined, though he didn't bother with resisiting Uhura's insistent hands at his back and he was shoved down the hall. Nyota gave Amber one last look before quickly leaving herself. She'd force the answers out of one of them eventually.

At the table, Chekov took a deep breath and turned his PADD on. "So," he began awkwardly, unsure of where to begin. "Did you sleep well?" he asked her, waiting for the screen to turn on. Had it always taken this long? He mentally slapped himself. Worse, could he have asked a more overrated question?

She nodded. "Fine. But more importantly," she said, turning to him with a smirk. "Are you ready, _teacher_?"

He laughed, the tension leaving at her grin. "I have no fears. With me teaching you, you will be speaking excellent Russian in no time," he told her with a smile.

"I don't know about that," she replied. "You might have to be extremely patient with me."

He waved off her concerns. "Nonsense. It is not hard to learn."

She scoffed. "Says the man who grew up speaking Russian."

"Yes," he replied, turning to smile at her. "And that would make me the expert, yes?"

She laughed. "I suppose."

He opened his mouth to speak again but let out an "Ah!" as his PADD flickered to life. With the touch of a few fingers, he opened the document that he had been working on late last night in preparation and set it before her. She leaned over to view the long list of symbols and figures that he had written out, part of a long list that seemed never-ending as he scrolled around for a starting point.

He noticed her confused expression and said, "Today, we shall start with numbers and the alphabet," he told her, switching into a working mood that he was far more comfortable with than the open and friendly side he had been trying to show her. She smiled and nodded. "Before you can learn anything, you must learn the phonetics. Let's starts...here," he said, pointed to a strange shape that resembled an A.

He began slowly, carefully pronouncing each sound for her to hear clearly. She tried to repeat, but when he laughed at her more than applauded her, she grew tired. She didn't think it could get any harder.

An hour passed quickly at the table before Amber made any headway in her studies. It had taken this long to teach her how to count to ten understandably and Chekov was positively bubbling with laughter. Her tongue did not want to form any of the sounds he had introduced her to and her every try was so far off that he couldn't help but laugh. But he was glad that she was determined to get it right. He only made himself stop when his communicator began to beep at his waist and he was forced to answer it. "Chekov here," he said, unable to completely mask his disappointment. Having grown so used to her presence, the sound of her voice, and feel of her skin he was incredibly reluctant to leave.

"_Mr. Chekov, meet in the briefing room," _Kirk's voice echoed out.

Chekov sighed. "Yes, Keptin," he replied, flipping it shut. He turned to her apologetically and gave her a sad smile. "Well, I was hoping we would get through more, but I must go."

She frowned and had to regretfully pull her hand from his as he stood to avoid suspicion and accusations. His blank expression was missed as he glanced at his empty hand, still tingling with her warmth, fingers curling in to a fist as he looked down at her. "I don't want to get you in trouble," she said, forcing a smile.

He found a small one to return and set a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe we could meet again tomorrow at the same time?" he suggested, daring to hope.

A full blown grin enveloped her lips as she nodded. "I'd like that. Tomorrow," she agreed, standing with him.

He began to walk away but paused at the door, jogging back to her and holding out his PADD. "Make sure you practice," he urged, raising an eyebrow at her in an expression that reminded Amber of an old history teacher she had had - stern, yet teasing, demanding her attention and investment.

She laughed. "I'm telling you, I'm not going to sound perfect in a few lessons."

He waved her off. "Nonsense. I will make you perfect," he said, smirking to her before taking off down the hall.

She smiled to herself and glanced down at the screen where his tidy letters were written. Maybe a few minutes practice wouldn't hurt.

* * *

><p>Amber knocked twice on the door before standing back, waiting for the inhabitants to open. The door slid out of her way to reveal a small boy at her feet, looking up at her in curiosity.<p>

She smiled. "Hi, Tyvik," she greeted. Kneeling down, she met his outstretched fingers with her own. The Vulcan climbed on top of her easily and she laughed as she stood with him in her arms, entering the small room.

Surok, on the couch, moved to sit up, but she waved him down. "Stay down. You need to rest."

"I assure you that I am quite capable of functioning at a normal capacity."

"And I trust your word," she said, walking over to push him back onto the couch. She quickly removed her hands from his shoulders, knowing he wasn't comfortable with extended contact with others. "But Dr. McCoy told you to rest. I think it is logical to trust the advice of a medical expert?" she said, smirking. He couldn't act against logic.

He seemed to give up, and the way his shoulders relaxed reminded Amber of a sigh.

She smiled and turned to to Tyvik. "How about we play a game, huh?" she asked, her voice bright and chipper. He touched a tiny palm to her face and she felt his excitement. She got the distinct image that he sent her of the observation deck and smiled.

"If your brother's okay with it, I"ll take you," she told him.

"He has been waiting for three hours thirty four minutes and twelve seconds to ask you to take him," Surok said, reclining back against a large pillow.

Amber giggled. "I sense a yes," she said, hoisting the toddler higher on her hip. "We'll only be a couple hours or so," she promised.

Surok said, "It will be a sufficiently stimulating experience for him."

Amber smiled and waved good-bye, taking Tyvik quickly down to the Lift to take him out to the deck. He was patient and quiet as she walked, staring at her and sending her all his thoughts through the hand at her temple. Like the first time he had done so, she felt his unwavering trust and caring that he had for her.

Surok had said that she bore an uncanny resemblance to their deceased mother and she was honored, but she felt guilty, almost as if she was using the boy to quench her maternal instincts. When she had told Surok of this, he hadn't understood her concern.

"It serves a dual need," he had said. "Tyvik is comforted in a time of turmoil, and you receive comfort in being needed. It would be illogical to feel guilt over a natural emotion."

She smiled at the memory. Compared to other Vulcans, he seemed a lot more understanding. Granted, she had only met a couple of the others once in the Mess hall, but she had the distinct impression that they did not approve of her the way Spock and Surok did. Their direct approach in telling her so did not alleviate the feeling, either. When Surok had agreed to allow Amber to watch over Tyvik after the toddler's pining for her grew tiresome to his brother, she was eager and joyful at finally being useful, but the others of his kind only fondled their distaste of her. On multiple occasions she had been met with strong and abhorrent words, mostly on her inadequacies has a mere human. She was able to brush it off most of the time but anything she did outside of her room was planned around any Vulcan interaction.

She arrived at the deck and felt proud at herself. She was slowly learning her way around the ship thanks to her Russian guide. Tyvik must have sensed this thought, for she felt his question at why she had so many memories of the boy with the funny accent.

She felt herself blush. "He's a good friend," she told him.

When he asked why her temperature had risen, she didn't feel any obligation to respond.

She coughed to clear the awkward implications. "Anyway," she said, louder than needed as she opened the door to the deck. "Here we are." She set him down and let him waddle over to the controls and punch in what he wanted to view. His chubby fingers slowly clicked at the keys until a picture of empty space was viewable. Amber sat down and let him plop into her lap.

She leaned over his head and asked him, "Where is this?"

He twisted enough to show her the image of a red planet surrounded by small moons. It didn't take Vulcan intelligence for her to understand that she was looking at where Vulcan had previously been, replaced by empty space.

She felt sadness well up in her and held him close. He grew quiet and continued to stare at his misplaced home. Amber kissed the top of the back of his head and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "You still have a home."

He turned to her with wide, questioning eyes, silently asking "how?"

She smiled, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind his ear. "You still have your brother, and I know he cares about you a lot." Through the connection at her fingertips, Amber could feel Tyvik smiling.

She leaned down and pointed to a star on the screen. "Can you tell me about your home?" she asked.

He grew bubbly with excitement. The hand on hers went to her head, where she received memories from Vulcan.

She saw Surok talking with a strange girl about genetic differences between Vulcans and Romulans. She saw Tyvik discovering chocolate for the first time, which didn't bode well for the furniture. She saw his mother and his father, and thought to herself that she did resemble Tyvik's mother a lot; they had the same shape in their face and eyes, the same plumpness to their lips, the same color hair, though her slanted eyebrows and pointed ears made a distinct difference.

A small beep sounded throughout the room before a voice said through the intercom, _"Amber Young, report to Medical Bay."_

Amber smiled to herself and shook her head.

Tyvik watched her curiously as she took him in her arms and stood. "Sorry, but we have to leave a little earlier than planned."

She got the distinct impression that nothing could have made him unhappier. He whined angrily and moved to be put down. Amber struggled to hold on to him, but he put up a stronger fight than any other child she had ever known.

She turned him around and stared him in the eyes hard. "No," she told him firmly, as she had seen Surok do before to control his temper.

He calmed down, but he was inwardly seething as she carried him away.

* * *

><p>Amber warily watched McCoy as he approached the bed where she sat with a tray full of syringes - she remembered him calling them hyosprays at one point. There were four of them, each labeled with different numbers and letters.<p>

He scribbled on her charts for a moment before setting down his PADD and looking up at her. "Let's get this over with," he said.

She winced as he injected her twice on each arm quickly. Immediately, he applied a bandage on top of each spot. "There you go. You're all caught up on your vaccinations now."

She rubbed her sore arm. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said, smirking. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

She scowled. "That's what you think," she snapped.

He chuckled, taking the used instruments to the trash.

"Does that mean I can go?" she asked. McCoy turned to her with a smirk.

"Special plans?"

She blushed. "N-no. What makes you think that?"

He was silent for a moment as he walked out of her sight and into his office. "I've seen you and Chekov together," she heard him say.

Her face felt inflamed. "That has nothing to do with anything," she defended, perhaps a little too quickly.

She heard him laugh. "You can go."

She sprinted out of the room and sighed once she was out of his sights. Once she made it to the Lift, she took a moment to breathe and held a hand to her heart.

She knew McCoy was right; she couldn't deny that she held strong affections for Chekov, but he didn't need to know that. Nothing had happened between them that was special. She had smiled and laughed until her sides had hurt with her friends, she had hugged other guys without any meaning behind it, she had held the hands of her male friends without any romantic relations (though they _had_ been gay). She didn't want anyone speculating on their relationship until Amber knew there was a relationship to speculate about.

Her heart clenched painfully. _If _there was a relationship at all.

She stepped out onto the landing in front of the Mess hall when the doors slid open. Nyota immediately greeted her from a table in the back where she sat with Spock and Chekov, who smiled at her and moved to let her sit next to him.

She sat down and smiled. "Hi," she greeted, a bit quieter than she normally would.

Chekov noticed such a small change in her. "Is everything all right?" he asked

She nodded and smiled. "Nothing to worry about."

She reached across to steal a french fry off of his plate to prove her point. He seemed to take that as an appropriate response and laughed at her - she was always stealing his food.

As he turned to continue a conversation with Spock, her eyes drifted to his profile. McCoy's short insinuations came back to her. He thought that something was going on just as anyone who spoke to her regularly did. Was she that obvious about her feelings? It didn't feel so, but social interactions had probably changed tremendously. She blushed and looked down at the table, absent-mindedly reaching over to take another fry and munch on it slowly. Even if others had noticed, she prayed that Chekov hadn't. If he did, she feared losing his friendship. She didn't know if she could take that.

Her head snapped up when Uhura and Spock stood to leave, allowing Chekov and Amber to be alone. Nyota winked to Amber as she exited the hall to return to the bridge. Amber knew that look - Nyota was plotting something.

Chekov coughed awkwardly. "So," he began, pausing. They both turned to glance at each other shyly.

Amber forced herself to smile. "How's your day so far?" she asked.

He shrugged. "The same as any other day, I guess," he replied. "I do not believe anything exciting happened."

She nodded. "Same."

They grew silent until Amber turned to him and asked, "Are you in the mood to listen to my terrible Russian?"

He laughed. "Always," he said. He paused as Amber gave him back his PADD, blushing. "I-I mean, you are not terrible, but I-"

She patted his shoulder. "I know what you meant."

Chekov found himself wishing that she would touch him again once she removed her hand from his shoulder.

He pulled up the document before he slid his chair out and said, "I'll be right back."

She nodded and watched him walk off to retrieve a drink from the Replicator. He returned seconds later with a clear, iced beverage. He took a hearty drink before turning to her with his PADD.

"Let's start with a pop quiz," he said. He laughed at her groan.

"Can't we review first?"

He shook his head and moved to take another drink, but Amber reached over and took a large swig out of the glass.

Chekov stared at her in surprise. "You like vodka?" he asked.

Once the strong, alcoholic taste hit her tongue, she coughed and sputtered, pushing the cup away from herself.

"Yeah, that's not water," she coughed.

Chekov covered his face with his hand. Amber saw his shoulders shake and scowled. "How can you drink that stuff?"

He stifled his chuckles long enough to take a sip and smile at her. "It is quite refreshing."

"Do I spot an indirect kiss?"

The two teens both turned to find Captain Kirk sitting across from them with a wide smirk. He shook his head. "Kids these days move so fast."

They turned back to each other, but could only meet the others eyes for a few moments before turning away in the midst of a ferocious blush.

* * *

><p>Title Reference: "Puppy Love" by Damian McGinty from Celtic Thunder<p> 


	6. Chapter 5: Arms

**Come Hell or High Water**

_Chapter 5: Arms_

Amber sighed as she stared into the mirror in her bathroom, running a brush through her hair to take out the knots, part of her night-time ritual. She set the brush down on the counter and took a good look at her reflection, putting a hand to her face. Her appearance hadn't changed, she didn't look any different, but she couldn't remember who she had been a matter of three months ago.

It felt as if years had passed. Everything was changed. She briefly wondered what would have happened to her if she had never died. Would she be graduating right now, smiling as she took her diploma? Would she be going off to college or starting a job? Would she be seeing somebody that was so sweet that he took her breath away?

She felt her heart clench painfully in her chest. It didn't matter what could have happened - she was stuck here now. Even though she had been welcomed with opened arms and found friends, felt needed by somebody, she still felt out of place. It happened every day, where she felt confused by this new world she had been forced into. Just yesterday she had been talking to Surok and couldn't even understand half of the conversation they had been having as it drifted to current events. She couldn't pretend to understand anything about dilithium crystals or starships, which seemed to be a source of interest for him. Even if she couldn't follow, she didn't feel that he was angry at her. If anything, it gave him a chance to explain to her, teach her something that was important to him. She had begun to differentiate between his subtle emotions and could see how he enjoyed being a mentor, something she imagined must have become natural for him as he tried to raise his Tyvik.

However, he was the only Vulcan who seemed to tolerate her. She had met a few of the others, but they had become irritated that she wasn't at what they thought was a "human level of understanding."

The only time she didn't feel out of place was with Chekov.

She couldn't explain why, but she felt at home with Pavel. They had spent dozens of hours in the Mess and in her room going over Russian vocabulary and grammer, but Amber knew this was only an excuse to spend time together. She still had her edition of _Crime and Punishment_ on her nightstand, untouched since the night he had given it to her, but she didn't care to read it anymore. Chekov hadn't even mentioned it since he had given it to her. His lessons had become more than simply memorizing vocabulary and practising sentence structures. Far more.

Her last lesson had been earlier that evening in her room, a matter of hours ago. She smiled and held a hand to her cheek, feeling her face heat up at the memory.

_Chekov lay next to her on his back, head turned to watch her translating the simple sentences on the PADD before her. She had her brow furrowed in concentration as she typed in her response. He smiled, watching her deep in thought. A piece of dark brown hair fell into her line of vision and he immediately found his hand reaching out to tuck it back behind her ear. She paused and turned to glance at him, shyly blushing before returning back to her work. _

_"Done," she said, proudly holding the PADD out to him. He raised an eyebrow at her - she had finished unusually quick compared to her history with his quizzes - and took it from her, holding it above his head as his eyes scanned the screen. _

_He chuckled to himself and sat up, circling three sentences out of the five. "These are wrong," he said, handing it back to her. _

_"What?" she shouted in disbelief. "But I was sure I got the third one right!" _

_"You did not conjugate the noun right," he said. He couldn't help but smile at her frustration._

_She groaned and threw the PADD onto her pillow. "I give up. Your language is impossible!" she said, throwing her face down into the covers. _

_He laughed and ruffled her hair. "It is only hard because you do not practice." _

_She looked up at him in mock anger. "Practice? I do nothing but practice! All I ever do is learn Russian from you and coordinates from Hikaru and awkward alien phrases from Nyota and engineering schematics from Scotty -"_

_"And Vulcan from Surok," Chekov finished for her. _

_She scoffed. "I'm not very good at that either."_

_"Mr. Spock seems to think you are improving greatly."_

_"Mr. Spock is being nice."_

_"Vulcans are not 'nice,' they are honest." _

_"Spock is only half Vulcan. He can be nice," Amber replied, only weakly whining at this point. _

_Chekov reclined against his arm next to her smirked. "The more you practice, the better you will become. You use Vulcan much more than you do Russian, so it becomes easier for you."_

_She frowned. "It's not like there are a dozen people who speak Russian on the ship. Just you and Nyota, and she finds Romulan and Klingon more fascinating than any earth languages."_

_Chekov considered this for a moment, nodding to himself as a plan formed in his mind. "Then I will only speak to you in Russian from now on."_

_She shot up, searching his face with wide eyes. "What! You're kidding!"_

_He laughed. "You will learn faster if you are forced to speak."_

_She groaned and threw herself back onto the bed. "You're trying to torture me, aren't you?"_

_He checked the clock and stood, sighing. "It is getting late. I must return to the bridge."_

_Amber sat up and nodded, looking away solemnly. It was always hard to return to the quiet of her room after enjoying his company. _

_She saw him move to the door and pause before returning to the bed. She glanced up to ask what he wanted when he leaned down and placed a kiss to her cheek. _

_He left her with a quiet whisper of "Good night." _

Amber smiled to herself and stood to turn the lights off before slipping under the soft covers of her bed. She wondered how she should greet Chekov the next morning without embarrassing herself before she found herself falling asleep.

* * *

><p>Waking up to a heavy cough that forced its way through her sore throat, Amber sat up in bed and put a hand to her chest, taking deep, slow breaths. She groaned as she pulled the covers back and moved to sit on the edge of her bed, glancing at the clock. She briefly recognized that it was sometime after two in the morning before standing and making her way to the sink. Her legs were screaming in protest all the while.<p>

She gazed at her reflection in the mirror and put a hand to her forehead. Either her hand or her face was burning, but she couldn't tell which. Her head was spinning too hard and fast for her to tell if that was even her forehead she was touching. She gripped at the sink to keep from falling over, but she still felt herself swerving around.

She found her way to the faucet and turned on the tap, pouring a small glass of water that she quickly used to douse the fire in her throat. She still felt herself burning up when her legs gave out below her and her head fell against the tile floor.

All she could feel was the throbbing in her head and the thumping of her heart. Everything seemed to hurt, but the cold floor helped a small bit. The more time passed that she spent on the tile cooled her down a little. She rapidly felt a chill coming on and tried to move into a ball to stay warm, but her body resisted.

The earth below her began to shift until she could tell that she wasn't on the ground anymore. She was so hot now, as if she was standing in a fire, her flesh burning more and more, growing warmer and warmer until she couldn't take it anymore. She was suddenly laying on something soft, and her forehead was cool, but her head was still spinning, her vertigo keeping her down and unable to move without incredible disorientation.

She didn't notice time passing. There was a beeping near her ear that threatened to force her headache to implode her skull.

"Amber, can you hear me?" someone was calling out to her. She wanted to push them away and sleep. Why couldn't they let her sleep? She felt like she hadn't sleep in days, she was so exhausted.

A hand gripping her own brought her back to a semblance of reality, where she could feel the air conditioning going through the room and smell the sinus-clearing scent of antiseptics. It was one of the only things that hadn't changed throughout the years that she had been comatose, that same smell that only a doctor's office possessed.

"Amber," a voice softly said. It was male and familiar. She felt her heart skip a beat. She should know this voice. It was so warm, so kind, so achingly trying to reach out to her that she longed to reply, desperately tried to move her throbbing arms to reach out for it.

"Please, wake up," he pleaded.

"Ensign, you're needed on the bridge," someone said faintly.

"I'm not leaving," the man replied resolutely.

"You want me to tell the captain you're disobeying his orders?"

He paused before saying, "I can't leave her." His voice was quiet and weak.

The visitor must have left, for his voice disappeared and Amber was left to focus on the memory of the man's voice and the touch of his hands as he had stroked her own. She registered that he visited often, sometimes stroking her face or her hair, or laying a soft kiss to her forehead. These moments caused her heart to take off like the wings of a hummingbird and she didn't know why.

She began to become aware of the day passing. When the man sat next to her bed, holding her hand, it was approximately midday. Other people often talked next to where she lay at this time, but he was a constant in the unintelligible hum of people. When he left, it was night. It grew quiet and still. When she heard the sound of tools clanging against each other, as if they were being moved, it was morning. An alarm went off every day at this time before it was abruptly quieted. The afternoon held her anticipation the most and sent her heart galloping away.

Her visitor often took to talking to her, rattling off endless conversations in a hope that she would return with a sentence or two. She wanted nothing more than to let him know that she could hear him, but her body refused to respond. "Captain Kirk keeps asking about you. He wanted me to tell you that you should be having 'sweet dreams of you and him'. I do not agree," he said, pausing. "Nurse Chapel says that she doubts you are having sweet dreams. Apparently Vulcan Influenza causes severe hallucinations in humans." She felt him circling his thumb on the back of her hand before laying a kiss to her palm.

"I wonder what you would say if you knew I was here," he trailed off one day. "I am probably overstepping many boundaries, but I...I just-" he stopped abruptly and sighed. There was one last kiss on her cheek before his presence was gone.

It was about midnight when she felt a spark to her fingertips. Her face twitched and she moved to pull away from it.

"Tyvik, no," she heard someone say lowly.

She groaned and moved her hand, joyous to find that the soreness had receded from her limbs, to cover her eyes as she blinked them open, grateful to find blackness rather than bright hospital lights. For some reason, she felt as if she had just taken a very refreshing nap.

She moved to sit up when a hand landed on her shoulder, keeping her from getting out of bed fully. She turned and found Surok watching her with a blank face, as always.

"Surok," she said. There was a heavy weight on her legs and she looked down to find Tyvik holding his hand out for her.

She smiled and met his fingertips, feeling his relief. He had been worried about her when she didn't come back to play with him as if it was his fault. There was regret that his anger at leaving the deck prematurely might have caused her to stay away.

"Oh, it's not your fault Tyvik," Amber said, reaching over to hold him. He gratefully let her take him into his arms. "We can't always control when we get sick."

"I must apologize," Surok said, standing with his hands clasped behind his back at her bedside. She turned to him in confusion. "It was prolonged exposure to my brother and myself that caused your illness."

"That's ridiculous," Amber said. "People get sick - it's not anyone's fault."

"You were infected with a strain of a Vulcan virus equivalent to the human Influenza that you would have only received from us," he paused, but opened his mouth to say more. "Again, I apologize."

Amber smiled and took his hand, ignoring his response to pull away. "It's not your fault. Besides, I'm fine. No harm done," she finished with a smile.

Surok didn't seem to know how to react. He stared at her, searching for answers in her eyes. She didn't deny him his curiosity. She let go of his hand and moved to brush the hair out of Tyvik's eyes, who was fast asleep on her chest.

"I will tell Dr. McCoy that you are awake," Surok said softly, glancing one more time at his brother in her arms before leaving.

Once he was gone, Amber shifted her pillows so that she could lean against the bed at an elevated angle, allowing Tyvik to rest more comfortably. It was only minutes later when McCoy entered with Surok and a flustered Chekov behind him. She wondered why he was there. It had to be late. Was he waiting for her? This thought caused an uncomfortable but welcoming warmth to spread through her body.

McCoy smiled and walked up to her, scanning her with his instruments. "Glad to see you're awake. How are you feeling?" he asked.

"A lot better than before," she said. Surok took Tyvik from her arms to allow the doctor to examine her thoroughly without interference.

Amber caught Chekov's eyes and smiled. Instantly relief flooded his face and he stepped forward, unashamedly taking her hand gratefully. "I am glad you are well," he said softly.

She smiled. "You and me both."

The grin on his lips made his face glow. "You had me very worried. I did not expect to find you on your bathroom floor."

"Is that how I got here?"

He nodded. "You did not come down for breakfast, and I was worried. You almost gave me a heart attack, seeing you unconscious."

She laughed. "My hero," she teased him.

He laughed with her for a moment before they both grew subdued, watching McCoy run tests to make sure that she was well and had truly recovered from her unexpected illness.

Amber noticed that her hand was unusually warm. She glanced down at her hands and found Chekov fingers still intertwined with her own. She blushed, but didn't draw his attention to it. She loved the feel of his hand, the warmth of his skin, the steady motion of his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her palm. She wondered if he noticed it, or if the gesture was simply a habit. Either way, she wasn't eager to let him go and didn't draw his attention to it.

McCoy pulled up a chair next to her - giving Chekov an annoyed glance - and gave her a sympathetic smile. "I hate to tell you this -"

"Oh _hell_ no!" Amber said, scrambling to the other side of the bed which forced her to release Chekov. "I know that look - you want to poke me with more of your gadgets!"

"It's necessary. If I don't give you the vaccination you could relapse, and that might kill you," he said, standing and pulling a hypo out of his drawer.

She tried to move far from the edge of the bed, but Chekov sat on the bed next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her from moving very far - though that had more to do with how warm she felt rather than an restrictions on her movement. As McCoy approached her, Chekov clenched her hand and gave her a smile. She was so distracted with trying to keep the blood from rushing to her face that she didn't feel the quick prick in her arm.

Chekov laughed at the pout on her face once she realized how he had distracted her, unable to resist kissing her forehead.

"You are too cute."

* * *

><p>Though she still felt sore and congested, Amber couldn't remember ever being happier. Chekov sat next to her all morning, filling her in on all that she had missed, talking to her for hours on end with a smile on his face. She loved to hear the sound of his voice coupled with his accent, especially when he rambled on about a topic he was interested in.<p>

"...But Mr. Spock disagreed. He does not think that there is a likely chance that the Klingon's would follow us..."

She didn't understand one word, but she loved how his face lit up when she appeared interested. When he laughed, she laughed.

He paused and chuckled nervously. "I am sorry. I am probably boring you," he said, looking away with a small blush on his face.

Amber shook her head and patted his hand with a smile. "Not at all. I enjoy talking to you," she paused. "It's not like there's much else for me to do."

He smiled. "That is good." His voice trailed off as if usually did when they ended a certain conversation. When that silence fell, Amber just wanted it to go away. It felt awkward, unnatural, as if there was something that needed to be said between them. After all this time, ease of words hadn't found them yet. She felt like she was in the thralls of a childhood crush, constantly worried about the tiniest gestures and expressions, always obsessing over every word that she said to him.

"Though," she continued. "I am glad that you haven't kept up your threat to confuse me with Russian."

He laughed. "Threat? It was not a threat. I was trying to help you learn."

She scoffed. "Yeah, right. You just want to prove how much smarter you are than me."

"I would never! It is simply a matter of education and -"

She put a finger to his lips and giggled. "I'm joking," she said with a grin.

His face was bright red as he watched her pull her hand away in a daze.

They both grew quiet and the awkward silence followed. This time, however, Amber welcomed it. Chekov played with her hand again, running his fingers over its back or her palm, simply feeling her skin against her own. A low fire ignited in her, yearning for more. He had created a spark in her that desired to be with him, to talk to him, to hold and touch him. Unused to these feelings, she didn't know how to channel them or how to ease them to make them bearable, but she supposed that taking the plunge and finding out how he felt was better than playing this waiting game, where they took turns finding how far they could push the boundaries of friendship.

She cleared her throat. "I was wondering if you would help me with something," she asked, determined to avoid his eyes. She studied everything in the ward but him, knowing that her resolve would crumble to pieces if she was met with the force of his beautiful irises.

"Anything," he replied, a smile in his voice. God, everything he did made her nerves shake erratically. She hoped that her hands weren't shaking in his own.

"You see, I kind of have this...hypothesis, and I don't know how to set up the...experiment," she said.

"Experiment?" His eyes popped with excitement. "I thought you hated science."

"I do, but the curiosity is going to kill me," she laughed. A small amount of tension was released as they fell into an easy banter, but her heart was still fluttering like it had wings.

"Absolutely," he agreed. "I would love to help. What's your hypothesis?"

She was silent a moment before idly answering, "I've been thinking about it for a while, and I think that Russian guys are the best kissers."

Chekov froze. His face heated as a blush welled up from his dropping stomach that consumed his being. Was she really suggesting what he thought, what he had only dreamed of?

"But I've never had the chance to prove it, seeing as I've never dated a Russian guy," Amber concluded.

Chekov swallowed. "And how could I help?" he stuttered, his voice airy and shaky.

She turned to face him and gave him a look that he had a hard time looking away from. He adored it when she tilted her head like that, when her eyes glistened like that, when her lips pouted like that. It made his body shake with a strange need to hold her, to touch her.

He found his body moving on its own, taking commands some mind other than his own. His hands moved to rest against her face, holding her gaze with an intensity that they were both unused to and had them both shaking at the realization of what it could mean. With one finger he lifted her chin enough to let his lips brush against hers as gently as he could.

It was like being hit with a lightning bolt, the shock that went through him. His lips jumped away, but he couldn't stay, not with her sweet breath panting against his face. He found her lips again, longer this time, and the shock moved like slow molten rock throughout his body, changing the very foundations of his being.

He pulled away and she whimpered, forcing him to capture her lips in a deep kiss. He sifted his fingers through her hair, marvelling at how soft it was. He could run his hand all the way down her back before running out of hair, but he was just as satisfied to press her tighter against him. Her fingers held on at the base of his neck as she opened her mouth to his assault.

His body was screaming for oxygen, but he couldn't find the will to part from her, not when she was so close, so small, so warm, and she tasted so _good_.

"Mr. Chekov, it's a good thing I found you. I need-"

They sprung apart from each other as if they were burning, staring at each other and Kirk, standing in the doorway, repeatedly in paranoia. How much had he seen?

Jim didn't say anything as he entered the awkward silence. He did notice, however, how red Amber's lips were, how swollen they were, how dazed her expression was.

"What's going on here?"

* * *

><p>Title Reference: "Arms" by Christina Perri<p> 


End file.
